


Silly Traditions

by TiBun, UnknownPaws



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas fic, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, Slingphries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8949844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiBun/pseuds/TiBun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownPaws/pseuds/UnknownPaws
Summary: After receiving some devastating news, Alan decided he wanted to find the silver linings. He wanted to enjoy the simple things, but silly mortal traditions like Christmas was just stupid…right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: We do not own any recognizable characters. We only explore the possibilities.

Alan sighed, his thoughts heavy on his mind as he glanced out the window by his desk at the flakes of white slowly drifting from the sky and gathering on the thin ledge outside where pidgins often would perch for a rest, or to deliver messages to the busy dispatch. One lone bird was huddled there, it's feathers fluffed for warmth as it cooed softly. It had a marker upon its leg. Alan had spotted it before when the pidgin landed earlier, letting him know it was one of theirs, and not a wild bird. However, it did not hold a message. Still, as the soft-hearted reaper watched it, he debated opening the window and letting it inside for warmth and a small snack.

With a small nod to himself, he made up his mind, moving to set a glass paperweight upon his work before opening the window so that the wind wouldn't make a mess of his desk. He leaned out and held a gloved hand to the bird who cooed and with a flutter of its wings, moved onto his fingers to let him bring it inside and close the window again. Alan then stroked the soft feathers of the bird a few times before taking a small handful of bird seed from his desk and offering it to the bird.

The pidgin pecked its fill and then moved up to his shoulder, making happy little noises. Alan smiled; glad he could help the creature find a little warmth and food before sending it on its way.

With the content little bird still perched upon his shoulder, Alan relaxed back into his seat, his mind going back to wandering. He really was unusually distracted from his paperwork which he was always so prompt on finishing.

Around him, his fellow reaper agents were chatting lightly about the weather and their weekend plans—at least for those who had the weekend off.

"Hey, what about you, Humphries?"

"Hu?" Alan looked up to see the wide smile of one of the younger dispatch agents; Ronald Knox. The energetic young man always had some fancy date or party planned for when he wasn't working.

"This weekend. Any plans? You have it off, I think. Right?" Ronald laughed.

"No—I mean yes! I mean…" Alan sighed and shook his head to get his thoughts in order, "I have the next few days off, yes, but I don't have any plans… probably will just stay at home tending to my indoor plants… Or…"

"That sounds boring. Live a little, Alan! What was that 'or'?"

"I was…just thinking that this weekend is the twenty-fifth…Christmas…what if we…did something for it? I mean, I know it's a mortal holiday, and all, but…"

"What about the twenty-fifth now?"

A couple of other Reapers looked up, blinking in confusion at Alan as if he'd suggested a similarity between themselves and demons.

"I mean…it seems…fun. The lights and cheer…"

"The increased work around this time of year from suicide also seems great? Don't be silly, Humphries." Another reaper shook his head and those around him agreed that it was a horrible time of year full of overtime.

Alan looked down, "Well, only for those who are lonely… Christmas is a time to spend together with friends and loved ones, right? I just thought…maybe we could give it a try this year."

"Give wha' a try?"

The group of Reapers parted at the signaled arrival of their superior, senior Officer Eric Slingby. Standing tall by the elevator, coffee in hand and tie loose as usual, the blond Scotsman raised an eyebrow at the little posy his mentee had acquired.

"Ye finally gettin' laid, Humphries?"

Alan's cheeks heated in horror, "N-no, of course not! I was…just…thinking about…Christmas…"

The eyebrow went a smidge higher. "Christmas? Wha' abou' it?"

"Alan wants to celebrate it, apparently." Ronald said, leaning against the short wall of a cubical.

Alan shook his head, "Forget it, it was a stupid idea…"

Eric shrugged, taking a nonchalant sip of coffee and strutting past the pair, throwing a wink at a few female interns hovering about nearby (they ignored him).

"Ah, whatever makes 'im happy. Personally dun care for the mortal holidays m'self. 'S just another pointless day o' meaning tae me."

"Like I said—forget I said anything. I'll just water my plants then read a book or something…" Alan muttered, looking back down at his desk and removing the paperweight so he could start working once more.

Eric stalked around to his desk across from Alan's, setting his coffee down on the prim white surface and grimacing at the sight of a large pile of paperwork, garnished with a little note that said "Get it done for the love of God, Slingby."

So, it wasn't even worth another thought…it really had been a stupid idea. Alan sighed and picked up his pen once more.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day continued as normal, no other oddities disrupting the usual rigid structure of Reaper work and life. Eric half-assed his paperwork, collected souls in the field, had lunch with Grell (his mentor insisted on flouncing around in a red frock these days), and then punched out at half past five. He gathered his things from his desk into a fine black leather bag - a gift from a nice girl down at secretarial - and briskly strode down the hall, taking a left to the stairs instead of the lift. Normally he'd mingle with the crowd, but recently William had been all over him about overdue paperwork, and Eric just knew the man would be hovering about the main lobby like a hawk, hunting for his insubordinate subordinate. So today, he'd sneak out the back way and hopefully make it out unscathed (re: successfully avoid running into Will and the prospect of overtime).

His destination would cost him a few minutes, going through the medical ward, but that was a small sacrifice.

"I'm sorry, but nothing can be done." A soft voice drifted from the open door of one of the medical reaper's offices as Eric passed, catching his attention. Normally he wasn't one to listen in on business that was not his own, but something about the doctor's voice brought him pause. "We can't even tell you how much time you have. It's too unpredictable. Like I told you earlier over the phone…just enjoy yourself while you can, Mr. Humphries."

Eric frowned, hearing a voice coming from one of the rooms. Odd, the medical staff should have checked out an hour ago. It wasn't like them to stay late, unless they were at the hospital. But this was the dispatch and by 5:30 sharp, all cases were moved to a proper infirmary.

"I don't even know how…" Alan shook his head as he sat in one of the chairs, his back to the door as he faced the doctor. "I'm pathetic…"

"Hey now, you are a wonderful reaper, Mr. Hum—"

"I'm an immortal god of death who is dying! A year? A week? A day? Any moment could be my last—and I don't even know how to do anything but work! I have no real friends—I have no real life outside the office. I'm nothing but dying death."

"Thorns of Death isn't—"

"Thorns is the first thing in my life that made me feel…alive. Knowing that it'll all end…that I'll be just as lonely leaving this world as I was entering it… If that is to be my fate…Why should I try to find joy only for it to be worthless in the end? Why shouldn't I just…embrace it and slip out of everyone's memory like a fleeting thought…a forgotten flower growing in the cracks of the sidewalk only to be trampled by uncaring feet?" Alan shook his head and hunched forward, "I should give up on my dreams."

"Oh come now, don't be like that!"

"I just…don't see much point in any of this if I'll die anyway." Alan shook his head and stood up.

"Don't forget your refill." The doctor sighed, handing Alan a bottle of pills. "We can't stop the Thorns, but we can at least slow them—give you more time with those you love, and who love you."

Alan simply shook his head as he reluctantly took the bottle of pills, "Time is wasted on me…" he slipped out of the office, head down and hair falling into his face as he hurried away, not even seeing Eric as he passed by.

Eric raised an eyebrow, watching Alan for a moment before poking his head into the small office. Noticing the doctor still standing by his desk, he grinned and barked out a greeting.

"Late nigh' we havin'?"

The doctor sighed, "Not really. I just stayed after to make sure a patient of mine actually picked up his medication."

"Alan?" Eric frowned, stepping into the pristine office and looking around. "'E got the runs 'r somethin'?"

The doctor looked up at him and shook his head, "Much worse, I'm afraid…" he sighed and leaned back in his chair, "Poor boy…is suffering from the Thorns of Death…and alone, it sounds like."

Time seemed to slow, the words sinking into Eric's head at a steady pace. Like a stone dropped in the Thames, diving deeper until it hit solid rock bottom. He gave a short laugh, looking at the doctor as if he were mad.

"Sorry, I dun think I understood ye."

"I'm only telling you because you are his senior and you have the professional right to know and be aware of it in case he suffers an attack on the job." The doctor sighed, pushing a hand through his messy dark hair, "But you understood me correctly. Mr. Humphries is dying."

No - this could not be possible. It was absurd. Delusional, obscene, preposterous!

Death was finite - they were beings punished for the sin of suicide, forced to watch Death reoccur over and over again at a constant, repeated rate for taking matters of their deaths into their _own_ hands.

There was no peace for them. Only the cruel, cold reality of their fate. Existence was rigid and simplistic for them now. There was no relief.

Death could not die . There was just no way.

"You lie." Eric growled, his eyes dangerously set on the doctor.

"I would never." The man shook his head in calm demure. "Your junior has somehow conceived a very rare and deadly illness known to Reaper kind—an illness without a cure. He may seem fine now, but with time he'll suffer more and more attacks, particularly if he gets too active—such as battling a demon, for example. And with each attack he will get weaker and more acceptable to said attacks. You will watch his decent into the fate of Thorns. It could take anywhere between months to years. Each case is different. Watch his back on the field…or else a demon, angel, or even rogue records could put an end to him sooner than his illness."

Eric nodded, his throat unnaturally tight and eyes hard. Something wasn't right; this was false, it had to be. There was no way Alan - his sweet, tiny mentee - could be cursed with such a horrific fate.

But instead of voicing outrage, he nodded and pledged to a vow he knew he'd never be able to keep.

"I'll do m' best to protect 'im from the Death."

"That's all well and good…but what he needs more than protection is an understanding friend. Someone to show him the rest of his time here is worth living—even if what he wishes seems stupid to those around him."

Eric only snorted, snatching the file up and moving to the door.

"We dun live, we exist. We're already dead, an' Humphries knows tha'." he growled, slipping out into the hall.

"That doesn't mean we can't make the most of this second chance, Mr. Slingby. And he needs to learn that before he gives up."

"'E'll be fine. Ye fret tae much."

"I'm his doctor. It's my job."

"Whatever ye say!" Eric called back, though his face held a frown as he walked down the hall. This was... more than he'd like to think about.

 

* * *

 

Alan sighed, walking along the wintery streets of mortal London. Garland and holly hung in the display windows. He stopped looking in one and down at a hat on display. It was so easy to imagine Eric in it, maybe doubled with a nice scarf. Before he knew it, he'd entered the shop, picking up the hat and turning it over in his hands before moving over to where scarves hung on display.

"It's not a silly holiday gift," he muttered to himself, "This is just…a thank you gift…"

He paid for the items and left with it gift-wrapped under his arm, turning back towards a portal zone where he could slip back into the reaper realm and head home to his small, lonely apartment.

The latter of which was oddly illuminated and smelling of gingerbread when he returned. Someone could be seen shuffling around inside, hues of red and green flickering briefly in the windows.

Alan's eyes narrowed as he sped up his step, rushing to the door and finding it unlocked. Unsure of what to expect, he flung the door open, Eric's 'thank you' gift falling to his feet as he summoned his scythe—just in case.

A kaleidoscope of red and green met his eyes, his entire one bedroom flat turned into a festive mess. Mistletoe hug under every doorway, tinsel on the walls and doors, and holly strung up everywhere.

"What…" Alan shuffled in further, looking around at how his apartment had been transformed, "What is all this?"

A crash followed by loud, Gaelic cursing sounded from the kitchen down the hall, someone rummaging about Alan's drawers.

"Eric?" recognizing the voice and cursing, Alan dismissed his scythe and closed the door, tucking Eric's gift away by the coat rack before moving around into the kitchen and finding his senior in the middle of a mess. "Eric?" he repeated a little louder, "What…is all this?"

Eric jumped, his eyes going wide - a comedic sight, considering the apron and pink oven mitts - as Alan came from the doorway into the light of the kitchen, the golden glow casting an almost-halo over his head.

"A-Alan! I didn' think you'd be home 'til later!"

"It is later…" Alan looked at the trey of misshapen sugar cookies, "Are you baking?"

"Er..." Eric looked at the blackened, smoking mess behind him sheepishly. "I was, kinda.... I mean, I... Uh..."

He went beet red in the face, akin to a drunken blush, and tried to formulate a proper response on his tongue.

"Is this your first time cooking? I could help you learn…"

Eric, if possible, went even redder. "Well.. I mean, if ye wan'..."

"Alan nodded and removed his jacket, then rolled up his sleeves and took off his gloves, "…What's with the other room?"

"Ah..." Eric swallowed. "W-Well... ye mentioned wantin' tae try a new 'holiday' thin', so I figured..."

Alan stopped, looking up at Eric with wide eyes, "But you said that was silly…"

"I know wha' I said!" Eric growled, a tad more gruff than intended. "But that dun mean I'm below helpin' a fellow out when 'e needs it."

"Eric…" Alan blinked at him a few times, then sighed with a soft smile, "Thanks."

Eric grunted, wiping his hands off on the apron, refusing to meet Alan's eye. There would be a time to talk about the Thorns and what it meant for Alan's future. But not now - Eric refused to believe they'd take the man overnight, and he planned to stay glued to Alan's side regardless.

He let it go for now, but deep in the back of his mind, a spark of doubt and rebellion against the clutches of death ignited a small fire.

"Okay, what are you trying to cook, and how much of the ingredients are not wasted?" Alan asked, moving to the counter to take a look.

"Er... Nothin' big, jus' a few treats" Eric glanced behind him at the many trays of sad cookies and other desserts his poor oven skills had tarnished.

Alan smiled, "Well, together we can get this right." He then started to guide his senior through the baking process, playfully teasing Eric about his mess of flour.

It ended with a huge mess to clean and two batches of gingerbread and sugar cookies in the oven. Eric wiped off his face with a grin, hair mused and leathery skin pulled tight from the smile and crinkle of his eyes.

"Now we just have to wait." Alan said, setting a timer and turning around to begin cleaning up their mess.

Eric watched him for a moment, frowning at Alan's back. How long would it be before the man was off his feet and confided to a bed with only a window and vase of flowers to keep him company? Or locked up in a casket to be buried or burned? How long, Eric wondered.

How long before this light was extinguished?

"Can you start on the dishes? If we get this cleaned up, we can enjoy the fresh cookies when they are done." Alan said as he began working on the messy counter covered in flour and other spilled ingredients.

Arms wrapped themselves around his waist, Eric's broad form gently pressing into him from behind.

Alan froze, the cloth in his hands brushing some flour onto the floor as he slowly looked up at the Scotsman. "Eric? Is there something on your mind?"

Eric paused for a moment, his expression unusually pensive and somber. Then he grinned, ruffling Alan's hair and pulling away. "Ain't this wha' ye call 'spreadin' the holiday cheer'?"

"I suppose." Alan brushed off the feeling that something was going on and he continued to clean, "Tell you what, after these cookies are done, we can go enjoy them in the other room where you decorated, and we can spread more holiday cheer…I…actually have a surprise for you, too."

Eric blinked, glancing at the man in surprise. A present for him?

After the kitchen was cleaned up, Alan checked the timer. It was about to go off, so he looked to check on the cookies. Smiling, he grabbed a hot pad, "Done!" He pulled them out and set them on the rack to cool.

Eric grinned, reaching up a hand to sneak one away.

"Don't burn yourself." Alan chuckled, moving to the ice box, "Would you like some milk with your cookies?"

"Would I ever not?" Eric laughed, retracting his hand and following Alan over. "Careful, little minx, dun hurt yerself!"

Alan blinked, a small laugh in his voice. "Hurt myself on what? The pitcher of milk?"

"The cold, small one." Eric laughed, ruffling the other man's hair again, taking a brief half second to relish the soft touch of his locks against his calloused fingers.

Alan gave him a confused look, but poured them two glasses before getting out a plate for the cookies. Then, with milk and cookies on a trey, he carried it out to the sitting room and placed the trey on the coffee table, sitting down on his soft rug before the fire.

Eric followed him, taking a seat next to the brunet and swiping a single cookie from the top of the pile. Popping it in his mouth, he grinned, loosing his tie a smidge.

"Pretty damn good, eh?"

"Well, you have had two so far so I'll take your word for it." Alan laughed, picking up his first cookie and dipping it into his milk.

Eric watched him for a few moments before stealing another cookie.

"Eric." Alan nodded behind Eric to the wrapped parcel he'd brought home, still sitting by the door. "That's…for you."

Eric blinked, glancing behind him. With a slight frown, curiosity overcoming the comfort of the warm fire's blaze, he pushed up from the floor and strode over. The package was small, loosely wrapped in fine, festive paper. Were he in any other situation, Eric would have scoffed at the useless importance placed on such a flimsy mortal construct like holidays, but this time he quieted and carefully observed the offered gift.

Pulling at the string, he let the paper come loose and fall away, revealing the hidden treasure inside.

Inside was the hat and scarf Alan had picked out for him, promising warmth and protection from the wintery weather outside.

"I just…" Alan shifted, looking up at the man, "…wanted to thank you…for everything you have taught me. I appreciate it, and—I thought that style would look good on you…"

Eric stared; knit from fine wool, it must have cost a fortune on their meager salary. He felt his stomach knot and a lump in his throat; for once, charismatic Eric had no idea what to say. He was touched , for lack of better terms, by the gesture, and gave Alan a large smile in show of gratitude when words continued to elude him.

A light blush touched Alan's cheeks and he stood up, stepping closer to Eric, "And…for all this…I know you thought I was silly for wanting something like this…so thank you for doing all this for me. It really does mean a lot." He gave a gentle, whole-hearted smile. "Happy Christmas, Eric."

There would be a time in the future to talk about the Thorns. To discuss options and make decisions. But for now, with the warmth of the fire and the glow of Alan's smile heating his soul, Eric was content enough to enjoy the moment.

Happy Christmas indeed.

* * *

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and have a lovely Holiday season!


End file.
